Just One Sip Won't Hurt
by thiswillbeourfairytale
Summary: The start of the downward spiral that was Raoul De Chagny. Twoshot. /completed.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: A two shot. Based on the eventual downfall of our dear, little Raoul._

* * *

><p>Questions surfaced in her head.<p>

Blood froze. Heart paused. Words _choked. _Everything melted away in the distance. As she sat, on the bed, clutching the unwelcoming sheets over her shaking body, despair ran over her like wildfire. Eyes dashed around to dismiss all her fears yet inside she knew _he _had left her. She had called for him, softly at first. But no reply came. She called again, countless times after and still nothing.

_Left._

Immediately, tears began to slowly crawl down her face. She said nothing but couldn't press the harrowed cries that echoed within her. _Echoes…_

He wasn't _here. _

But she thought…

Memories of last night flashed in her head as she cried. Her heavily glazed eyes travelled towards the door where they had entered. _Consumed. _

In the corner of her eye, she saw something.

Something at the bottom of the door. Wiping her eyes and looking closer, she saw that it was a flower.

A _rose._

The woman choked sorrowfully as she numbly despaired in the bed that was once theirs.

* * *

><p>Raoul didn't understand where she was.<p>

She had said, last night she was discomfited and wished for permission to walk. He had laughed replying that she was permitted to do what she pleased. Christine did not laugh but left him smiling. He didn't think there was anything to these night time walks of hers as firstly she did them constantly and secondly she would normally just return to bed two or three hours after. And then, the next morning, Christine would be downstairs, eating breakfast and bidding him a good morning.

Unfortunately, this time this was not the case.

He didn't think she returned to her bedroom last night. He had sensed something quite uncomforting about the morning and hence he checked on her bedroom when it was approaching dawn. What met him was an empty bed. An empty, untouched bed that did not smell of Christine's perfume but smelled of _nothing. _Just nothing. Raoul had screamed, alarmed of her absence and had told the house guards who were now searching for her.

They had been searching for at least a half hour yet Raoul told them specifically they were not to return till they find her. Raoul couldn't lose her. Not when it was their wedding day.

"Yes, Christine." Raoul said to himself, pacing up and down the corridor, "Did you forget that we are to be wed today?"

Tapping his foot and scratching his chin (a habitual show of nerves) Raoul could feel a sudden rush of fear in his veins. _What if someone had taken her?_ He wasn't sure how he'd survive if something happened to Christine – no, he _wouldn't_ survive if something happened to Christine. The love he had for her – it was unendurable.

If she was hurt – he'd never forgive himself for permitting her walk.

The very idea that he wouldn't ever hear her soft voice – the soothing tone when she said his name – her beautiful smile when he cracked a rather _uninteresting _joke…a sad, smile appeared as memories came flushing towards him. "Oh, Christine," He sighed poignantly, bloodshot eyes hardening, "Where have you gone?" Heaving another exhale, Raoul was disturbed by movement.

The large glass windows by the edge of her room swung open – curtains flailed against the winter wind as a silhouette appeared against the morning sunlight, forming shadows at Raoul's feet.

He broke. "Ch – Christine," He breathed, stumbling towards her, relief flooding his eyes moistening them, "My love…where have you been?" Approaching her, he became aware of a difference in her face. He knew that this was always her method of entrance, thus why he had stayed.

Every time she returned from her walk, she used the elevated platform by her balcony to climb up. Apparently, it was to save disturbance for the servants downstairs.

Raoul eyed her. She looked shaken. Her body trembled from the morning chills and the man quickly shut the window behind them. Turning back, he looked through her large, emotionless brown eyes. "Christine?" He whispered softly, concern etched on his face as her gaze dropped on him.

"Christine?" He repeated.

"Raoul." She managed. Raoul examined her – head to toe – she seemed perfectly fine. No tear. No wound. Not a_ scratch_. Yet her face, seemed on the verge of combusting in tears. Suddenly, Raoul found himself entangled in an embrace. He caught his breath inside his throat as he quickly recoiled, wrapping his affectionate arms around Christine's trembling body.

Confused but more concerned for his fiancée's state, Raoul pressed a delicate kiss on the top of her head. "It's alright, my love," He whispered soothingly, wishing he could understand what troubled her, "Tell me…what happened?"

No answer.

"Christine, please," He said firmer in his pleading, "…tell me, why did you not return home?...did someone…" Raoul could feel his throat swelling just at the very concept but knew it was correct to propose, "…did someone _intercept _your journey home?"

No answer.

Holding her tighter, Raoul lowered his voice, "…Christine," He murmured, sickened and hurt, "_Did someone hurt you_?"

Suddenly, Christine's head lifted and Raoul found himself face to face with a paled woman. He prepared himself- prepared himself for the wrath, the anger, the _idea _that Christine had been damaged in any shape or form…it ached. It ached. And he could only blame himself.

However, Christine smiled. A soft, feather light smile.

His face twisted into slight confusion.

"No," She murmured, cold hand pressing against his warm cheek, "…I was just lost, in the dark. A woman pointed my path home…I seemed to have taken a wrong turning in my aimless wandering…"

Raoul felt relief flood through him. He searched in her face for any form of deception but found the tears of reprieve overwhelm him. He gently leaned forwards, letting their foreheads touch. "You worried me…" He trailed, "I thought something bad has happened." Christine laughed a croaky chuckle.

"Don't be foolish." The man smiled as Christine gently ran slender fingers through fair hair – a caress that always soothed him. She looked at him, straight in the eyes and he almost wished they could be married there and then as she uttered, "I can't miss my own wedding day." The sides of her lips twitched into another smile, "_Our_ wedding day."

Adopting her closer to his embrace, Raoul sighed pleasantly.

"I love you, Christine. More than _anything_."

She continued to stare at him before sensitively lowering her hands to his chest and taking a faint step back.

"Thank you Raoul." She said simply before glancing at the door, "I think I'm just in time for breakfast."

* * *

><p>The wedding had been wonderful.<p>

Raoul had never felt more content. He had stood there, present with every one who he loved. Including the one he loved the most. Pressing his lips to Christine's and knowing that they would be eternally together had been the most exultant feeling. It obliterated every good memory he ever had – it was there, holding Christine's hand as people celebrated around them – it was _there _that Raoul knew he belonged in this life for a purpose.

To be with Christine.

The meal – the dancing – the speeches, it all meant nothing to him. Time seemed to swipe slowly in the wedding. Nothing meant anything. He had been too euphoric at his fortune. The blissful peace of knowing that he was finally _happy. _He had watched all the festivities, holding Christine's cold hand and giving her the occasional timely smile.

He wanted her to know how much she meant to him.

How even if it had just been her and him in the altar – it wouldn't have mattered less. As long as they were both there.

Now that, that was over – they were home. Back together at the new unnamed manor. As husband and wife. It felt…_wonderful._ "Thank you," He said to the coach driver, entering the manor that had been given as a gift from his family.

It was massive. _Beautiful. _Empty –but that was why they were there. They were meant to fill it. Raoul took a large, bountiful breath and theatrically glanced back at Christine,

"What do you think?" He asked her, eyes flaring with excitement, "Beautiful isn't it?"

It was here that he noticed the faintness on her face had returned. He wondered then if she was sick or something. "Are you alright – do you want to sit?" He asked her quickly, coming to her side and offering to hold her only to be declined.

"I'm alright Raoul," was the detached reply, "Maybe it'd be best if I gather all our things upstairs."

A blow came across Raoul's face. Disappointment filled every creak of his jovial face, "Oh…of course," He managed, unable to hide the dejection. Christine did notice and forced a smile at him, caressing his cheek but then began to ascend. He opened his mouth to ask her something, but found his words dissipating.

Something was not right.

"Upstairs please," He told the various figures appearing with their cases of belongings – eyes never leaving the landing where Christine had stood moments before. He memorized her face. Scrutinizing it, Raoul closed his eyes and lowered his head knowing he had seen something incorrect on her features. Something which shouldn't _be _there.

_Pain._

* * *

><p>"I think we should get <em>chandeliers <em>for the main entertaining rooms – and portraits…there's a local artist here that I can hire…_Christine_?" Raoul sat up from their bed and glanced at the woman who was staring out at their balcony. He blinked as he realized that she hadn't even been listening enough to reply to his accusation.

"Christine." He resonated astutely, this time prompting for her to turn apologetically. Christine's unaffected face glanced towards him as she attempted a faint effort to look sorry.

"Yes, Raoul. Sorry, I was distracted by the stars."

Raoul inclined his head to look through the open window and frowned.

There were no stars.

_This must be sorted now. _Lowering his gaze, Raoul glanced at the various belongings Christine had unpacked. And then, very slowly approached her, ending up just behind. "Christine," He called softly, hoping to break through her rather blank countenance, "…have you been made unhappy by the wedding arrangements?"

A sense desperation accompanied his tone. Christine turned towards him, a shot of shock on her faint appearance.

"No, of course not. It was perfect, dear." She answered him, fully pivoting – both of them on level field.

Raoul stayed, unimpressed but breaking apart at the disorder. She was_ unhappy. _But _why_? "You have been terribly quiet the whole time, Christine," He said simply, hoping it wouldn't ignite an argument – _not on their first night_, "…please, tell me what is bothering you."

"Nothing is, Raoul."

"Yes there is." Raoul indicted, shaking his head to dismiss her denial. "Just tell me what it is – I shall understand –"

"Raoul, there is _nothing _wrong! Will you please _just_ –" Christine's breath seemed to shorten as she lifted, glossy eyes towards him, "…I'm just _tired_ Raoul. Please, don't _begin _a dispute…not on our first night."

"I'm not _trying _to –"

"Then stop _charging_ me!" Christine's voice heightened to the pitch of a shout, her shoulders were shaking. Raoul felt instantly guilty, as resentment seemed to fill her tone, "_Haven't _I _done _everything _you _wanted _already_?"

Pain.

Raoul's face twisted as the words stung. Everything _he _wanted? Did that mean - ? His chest was heaving as Christine avoided his gaze. There was a throbbing silence until he spoke with a mere,

"Why…did you – did you not _want _this, Christine?" His heart was breaking inside. He could feel it – wrenching beneath his ribcage. He couldn't _look a_t her. His mind was screaming things. Bad things.

_Don't answer it, please don't._

"Of course, I do." Her voice – her calming tone returned and Raoul found his face being cupped and lifted by familiar hands, "Please understand, Raoul," Christine whispered, brown eyes softening – clearing Raoul's every doubt, "I _do_ want this."

"I'm sorry I incited a squabble," He apologized, only be stopped by soft, affectionate lips. His words dwindled in his mind as he moved his own. The moment was cherished yet short-lived as Christine pulled away, moving a little of his hair and then smiled.

"I will just look at how the progress is going for the furniture downstairs." Raoul nodded, watching Christine as she slowly approached the door.

"I'll stay here," He called after her, lips still tingling "I'd unpack the rest of our things."

* * *

><p>The last thing was unpacked. But that certainly didn't mean anything was <em>neat.<em>

Their belongings plagued the floor and their bed was barely approachable with the amount of clothing. Cross-legged on the floor, Raoul could only exhaustedly sigh. He was supposing that this was a normal thing for newly weds. A learning curve. The messy home – eventually, it'd build itself. The house would no longer be empty – it'd be colourful, beautiful, and elegant.

Everything he'd ever wanted. And he and Christine would do it together. They'd build everything up and fulfil everything they'd always said as he courted her. He promised her a home- a _garden _– a small, simple life in the country… _children. _He laughed a little, flexing his fingers thoughtfully.

This was the first step. The first step to attaining every dream they'd ever had for each other. It was all going to start _today._ And today, Christine and him – they'd finally be bound.

The eternal bond of marriage. _Tonight. _He couldn't help but pensively force the thought off his mind, deciding it was best to make sure he avoided any more unnecessary disputes. He had remembered what his sister told him – how, nerves overwhelmed brides. But soon, they shall get used to life as a wife.

_And you'll be happy, Raoul. You'll the happiest man on earth._

He already was. Deciding it was best to see the goings on downstairs, Raoul propped himself up from the floor but found himself pulling the sheets on the bed instead. He chuckled a little, finding half of the possessions on the bed rolling off and collapsing on top of him.

Rummaging through and quickly trying to shove everything back onto the surface, Raoul paused as something – an object- appeared on the very top of the pile – just, for his eyes.

Emotion drained from every corner of his face as it dawned on him.

The loud thuds of his heart engulfed him as he stared, reaching out and touching it – pulling away as it became real. _The nightmare became real._

Seconds went passed.

But the rose stayed.

It stayed, perfect on top of the pile. Fresh, and moist.

It stayed.

_And it taunted him._

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><p><em>AN: Next chapter coming shortly._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Second chapter/conclusion._

* * *

><p>She chose him. She did. He remembered.<p>

Christine chose _him _over that _monster._

And after that, he had known that as her declaration of faith. He knew Christine had feelings for the man but knew that it had only been _sympathy. _Pity.

Not this.

Dear lord, not this.

"_Christine! Where have you been?" He asked with a small smile, glancing upwards as a gleaming Christine entered the room._

"_I just took a wander," She smiled. He returned it._

"_Was it good then?"_

"_Of course."_

Those 'walks' – could they have been –

_Lies_?

Eyes darkening, Raoul could feel his numb fingers grow cold as he touched the rose, feeling nothing but resentment fill him till his throat went dry. It could just be _any _rose. But it was _his _rose. Raoul knew. Christine's favourite flower was not a rose.

She wouldn't keep a rose if it wasn't – "If it wasn't important." He choked out, body stiff as his lungs began to feel small. She couldn't be lying to him. She _couldn't_.

Not when – not when he loved her so.

This was Christine. The sweetest, most amiable thing. His sisters had labelled her almost angelic. She couldn't – Raoul's head filled with conclusions that made him choke in anguish. Eyes glowered at the red flower, feeling like gnawing through its stem.

_You're not meant to be here._

He looked back – back to that night. The last time he saw the _Angel of Music. _Christine had embraced him and cried on his shoulder. He had assured her – comforted her that it was over. She nodded, fears washed away by his words. He had moved on then. After that, they'd returned home _happy. _

She was normal. Always _normal. _Until, today.

_She would not lie to you, Raoul._

Christine's face filled his mind. He eyed her – scrutinized her, but found his eyes welling up as the idea dawned on him.

_Don't say you love him, Christine._

_She would not lie to you, Raoul._

_Please, don't say you love him, Christine._

Fists forming into furious circles, Raoul found himself looking up as a voice beckoned from the doorway.

"Raoul?" It was Christine. She stood, standing perfectly and confidently, warm smile pressed to pale lips. "Are you not going to come downstairs? They are beginning to move the furniture…I must make sure you'd like them to be in the same place, too."

Raoul's eyes stilled. Tears hindered. In a quick motion, he hid the rose between a pile of clothes. He watched her for a moment, face pallid, skin trembling. Christine noticed.

"Raoul?" Christine stepped forwards, "Are you alright – my sweet? You're- you're _shaking_!" She began to approach him. Clearly, her mood had lifted as emotion writhed on her features.

Dazedly, the man found himself stepping backwards. He was at a loss. He was so confused – so _unfeeling. _Too many thoughts…too many feelings.

_To confront her? _

_Please don't begin a dispute…not on our first night…_

"Christine," He said, almost as a plead, reaching out for her, but finding his affectionate gaze _fading _as his eyes caught the sight of the pile of clothes he'd hidden the rose.

"Yes?"

_Tell me you've been faithful to me._

_Tell me that wasn't his rose._

_Tell me you love me, Christine._

"Tell me you love me, Christine." Raoul managed, gaze dropping a few metres. Christine's face shifted from a face of concern into a façade of wariness. Before he could explain himself, Raoul found his hand being held into a lifeless grip.

He lifted his eyes to her, watching.

"Of_ course _I love you, Raoul." Christine replied. "Why have you become like this?"

_Tell me you don't love him, Christine._

He wanted to expose her so badly. He wanted to rip open the pile and force her to explain the rose. He wanted her to _cry. _To _apologize. _He wanted her to _mean _it. He wanted her to explain that it had just been a mistake.

That she had been too infatuated with the rose. Not him. The _rose._

But the fear – the fear that what he suspected was true. That she wasn't -

It was too much.

So much, that he felt_ sick_. So sick that he just found himself pulling her into a comforting embrace. He buried his hurt, aching face into her hair.

"Raoul," he heard her say, as she soothed him with a soft, melodic hum. A tune, he hadn't heard of.

"What song is that?" He asked, painfully as he heard her calm, indifferent laugh. She didn't reply though. All Raoul could do was hold her more closely – so close that he could feel her heartbeat coincide with his own.

There was a soft, trembling silence before Raoul slowly released her.

This was his chance. The chance to prove her love for him.

_For all his fears to fade away and for them to continue as before._

"Christine…if there's ever anything you need to tell me," Raoul told her, face of a wounded man, "…please do. I won't ever get angry. I promise." His eyes were begging – imploring her to _say _something.

All he received was a smile.

"Of course. And the same to you." She said sweetly, beginning to approach the door, "Don't worry, so much."

* * *

><p>Raoul had watched her leave, shoulders dropping as he exhaled.<p>

She had dismissed his subtle accusation.

It should've calmed him. It should've swiped away _all _his fears that she had been disloyal to him. To _them. _Her face then had been such a face of innocence – of _truth _that Raoul had left the room and followed her. They then spent a good hour playfully moving around the furniture in the rooms.

It should've ended there. Their first night as a married pair should've continued as he'd planned.

It should've.

It_ would _have. If it hadn't been for Raoul going upstairs a few hours later, rooting through the pile of clothes he'd hidden the rose under and finding nothing. No stem. No petal. _Nothing._

_She knew._

* * *

><p>Lifting himself from the bed, Raoul placed on some clothes and glanced at Christine, her deep slumber providing him a perfect escape.<p>

They had finished it. The act of man and woman. Their love confirmed. But Raoul had done it feeling nothing but a rush of deadness. He had glanced at her, not with affection but revulsion. He had streamed fingers through her hair that did not feel soft but felt like wires. He had looked at eyes that were not jewels but _coal._

"I love you, Christine." He murmured, leaving the bedroom and beginning to descend down the steps.

Raoul wanted nothing more but to run away.

Inside, he was a mess. Everything in his mind confused and in _disarray. _He now loathed the woman he worshipped more than anything – he was suspecting her of a crime he had no evidence for – he was beginning to question _everything._

Everything that lead up to their marriage.

If he had been used. _Manipulated. _Mocked. _What if they had been together all along? While I waited for Christine to return safely- she was somewhere else…_

_With someone else…_

His love taken and wasted. _Trashed. _Heart used and _carved. _Emotions _shattered _and _spoilt. _Marriage…taken meaningless.

He walked out of their home, through the dark, starless sky and began to walk down the path. His face was blank, cold – wreckage.

It made every part of him ache. Ache to know that the more he suspected her, the more it made sense.

_He was never going to leave us alone…_

That was what he'd been so scared of. The fact that the Phantom will terrorize him and Christine when they were happily together. Thus why they moved away. But he never did. At the time, Raoul had thought it was lucky. He thought that it had been over.

But now, it displayed in front of him.

He might have been there all along.

Raoul closed his eyes for a moment, simmering in the cold, dark air. He walked forwards, steps heavy and loud. He knew that it hadn't been the pain of her disloyalty that affected him most – it was the fact that he didn't know _why _she would. Why she would make him go through this pain. _Why _she let him _delude _himself into believing that he had found the love of his life. _Why_ couldn't she have just rejected him? Just told him one day that she had chosen the wrong man.

Then maybe, he wouldn't feel like he'd lost a part of him.

He'd feel the stab of pain and loss, but the amount of love he'd poured into Christine would've been much less. Getting his heart ripped from his chest _now_ had been excruciation. Because they were married now.

_This was meant to be perfect_.

Reaching the very bottom of the lane, Raoul blinked as he realized that he'd stumbled into the town. Establishments were boarded up and he heard noises. Tightening his coat around him, he lowered his head and just continued sauntering.

It was here that he heard a voice.

"Awe, dear. What is with that bitter face?"

Raoul looked at the side and stared at a woman. She had red hair, quite short and stood in the doorway of a rather busy looking shop. He shook his head at her, knowing well not to mingle around places like abandoned town centres.

"No need to be afraid, dear. We're _nice_ down here. You're new, yes?" The woman's eyes were soft. Raoul somehow found his numb self softened by the idea of company.

_Distraction._

Failing to answer, the woman laughed again.

"Come in – come in."

"Why- do you have food?" Raoul asked, certain that the sickness he felt was failing to rekindle his appetite.

The woman giggled delightfully, "Yes we do. But certainly not the _edible _type. Come in, have a drink." She smiled at him. Raoul stopped and blinked, pale eyes curving into confusion.

He blinked at her, clueless.

"A drink, you know?" She did a motioning display of drinking beer. Raoul blinked and lifted a hand in surrender.

"N – no, I shouldn't."

_Christine said I shouldn't drink._

The very thought. The very mention of her name was enough to almost reverse his earlier opinion. "Actually," He managed, "…maybe I should."

"Fantastic. It's OK, dear. We have _lots _of people here that could share your bitterness."

Raoul approached her, "Really?"

"Yep," She nodded, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, "It's a woman, yes?"

"Yes."

"Of course, it is."

* * *

><p>Entering the establishment, Raoul was met with a cloud of smoke and cigar. He could make out silhouettes of people against but found himself feeling small and insignificant. He turned to walk out but found the woman just ushering him in.<p>

"Have you never had a drink before?" He heard her ask.

"I have but C –" Christine. Raoul refrained, "but…it really should only be for _celebrations_. And my…my wife, she doesn't like it much."

"Oh, a married one. Don't worry, sweetheart," She pushed him to sit on an empty chair by a table. Raoul blinked, realizing how without the fuzzy smoke, how dark and solemn it was.

Glancing at the other figures, Raoul realized how correct she was. How resentful some of the faces looked as they swirled around unclean glasses. Raoul stared at the table in front of him, hearing Christine's voice. How upset she had become the last time he became intoxicated. How they argued. And how guilt plagued him for days.

The sight of her tears. It made him push his chair back and desire to lift up again.

But then he saw something. In the corner of his eye – three tables down from his.

A small rose, in a glass vase.

The acerbic, bitter thoughts came flushing back. The guilt faded and his eyes darkened. The hammering _grief _returned and the weight on his lungs came back.

"Here you are, dear." The woman offered placing down a glass of liquid on the surface in front of him.

Raoul eyed up and blinked at her. "I won't be able to walk home, if I consume too much," He explained, "I- " The hesitance in his voice provoked the woman to sit across him, grinning affectionately.

"Dear, we all have _pain_. Pain comes in many boxes. _Mine _comes from the grief of my husband's recent death. His –" She jerked at a thumb to one mulling man just by them, "is his daughter's pending _wedding. _But to cope with pain…we need _this_." She poked the glass in front of them.

A lump formed in Raoul's throat. Suddenly, his throat cried out for it. It was dry – crackling.

"Drink the pain away, as they say," The woman continued, wiping her hands on her apron, "It makes it easier, _trust _me."

"Really?" Raoul asked, ogling the glass warily, "It…it makes it easier?" His hand picked up the transparent glass ruefully as the woman watched with a small, indifferent smile.

She nodded at him, watching as he took it dangerously near his lips.

"I'll leave you to it."

Raoul watched her leave, lowering down the glass for a moment.

_It makes it easier._

He lifted it up once more, the cold press of the glass bearing down on his warm bottom lip. In his mind, he pictured the rose – he pictured Christine – the masked man. The _tears_. The feeling of his compressed heart. The brokenness.

The loss.

The grief.

The disappointment. The _sorrow. _The betrayal. The misery. The ache.

_The pain._

Raoul contemplated his innocence one moment further, the smell of the alcohol beginning to swirl through his senses.

_Just one sip won't hurt._

_It won't._

He leaned backwards, letting the liquid enter his throat, the burning taste replenishing his burning tongue.

_The pain. _

His mind felt instantly light. Lifted. The throb in his throat urged for more – _one _more.

_Just one sip. _He thought lightly, lifting the glass, _Just one sip won't hurt._

Repeating the sequence, Raoul found himself drinking bigger and bigger gulps each time. Until, he had emptied the glass.

Leaning back, face facing the ceiling above, his mind began to grow fainter. But there and then, as his tongue tasted of sin and alcohol – he found himself _smiling._

The sadism behind it was evident as he found his eyes closing.

_I love you Christine, _his mind whispered as his last conscious thought approached, _but look what you have done to me._

_Look at me._

And that is when his mind snapped back awake and he found tears collapsing off his eyes. "More!" He exclaimed, table shaking, "More, please!" He wiped cold, meaningless tears off icy cheeks.

The woman returned, with a refreshed portion. "Alright – remember what you said- "

Raoul didn't listen and grabbed the glass. Devoured it.

His mind began to throb, as his vision began to blur. But he couldn't _stop._

The rush – the faintness – the sickness. It made him _numb. _He continued to plead, shout for more.

And soon, as he found himself falling asleep on the wooden table, he realized how the sip was enabling him to _forget. _He had forgotten about the pain.

He was_ happy _now.

This was where he belonged.

But inside, deep in Raoul's dark, shadowy mind – Raoul cried. He sobbed. Screamed. Because it was all ruined now.

All of it. And he knew that he would never be able to fix it. Christine. Himself. He was hopeless. So, so _lost._

Frozen eyes, slowly shut.

_Blackness. _

Inside he knew, the happiest man on earth had found something that finally returned his love.

_Misery._

* * *

><p>AN: Now a proper hello from me. Firstly, thank you for the reviews - I certainly hadn't expected any, but thanks a lot. It made my day :3 Now just a little story about the fic, I've had this idea for a long time (since I watched the musical) so, I'm glad to finally finish it. I am certainly not a R/C shipper, but I really enjoyed making Raoul here. I just really wanted to try and come up with a conclusion as to why the wonderful hero became a gambling, alcoholic and I could only think of it this way. He discovered Christine's betrayal and the pain of not being able to confront her and leave her gradually tears him apart. This is the beginning parts- almost the prologue. The first taste he has of liberation from the pain. I like to think that he finds refuge in alcohol (as most do) and eventually, in the ten year period, he turns into the hateful, resentful man shown in LND.

I hope you guys enjoy this. I love one-shots, so I may be writing more LND ones. Thanks a lot.

_Have a lovely Easter._

~thiswillbeourfairytale


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